


there's no better present than a future

by janie_tangerine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (COMPLETELY RE-POSTING IT OUT OF SEASON WHATEVER), Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - The Little Match Girl Fusion, Christmas, Fairy Tale Retellings, M/M, Minor Stannis Baratheon/Davos Seaworth, Past Abuse, Poor Theon, Pre-Slash, Robb Stark is a Gift, Sharing a Bed, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-08 04:25:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14097159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: “Uh, Merry Christmas?” Theon tries to joke. “’M sorry, I know I shouldn’t be here but –”The kid puts a hand on his shoulder and lets it go as if it burns. “You’re freezing,” he interrupts. “I mean, who cares, it’s not as if I’d report anyone being here, but – don’t you have somewhere to go?”Theon shrugs and thinks about a decent answer that might not sound too pathetic.“Never mind. That was a stupid question,” the kid says.“What?”“You’re freezing out on the street at this time on Christmas Eve with – you aren’t even wearing a coat, ‘course you don’t have a place to go.”





	there's no better present than a future

**Author's Note:**

> ... A LONG TIME AGO, I was taking christmas prompts and someone wanted _Throbb little matchgirl AU? (without super depressing ending)_. WHO AM I to say no. Anyway I never reposted it because I couldn't be arsed to find a title but these couple of days I'm cleaning up SOME of the unposted stuff so here it is, sorry it's out of season, it's still functional fluff.
> 
> As usual: nothing belongs to me, the original idea OBVIOUSLY is andersen's and the title is from the Discworld Hogfather tv movie in which... well, it was relevant to this topic. X°D *saunters back downwards*

Well, if  _this_  isn’t just proof that the universe is out to get him, Theon doesn’t know what it’s supposed to be, but he thinks he has a pretty good case on his side.

Mostly, because if you have to spend Christmas Eve on the street, wearing old clothes that weren’t new when his mom bought them for him used five years ago when he was seven, and  _selling matches_  on top of everything (or trying to, being the key difference) with the prospect of getting the trashing to end all trashes if you go back without any money then the universe  _has_  to be out to get you.

Then again, when your dad is so desperate for money that he’ll loan you out to the criminal living next door who has pretty much an army of orphans stealing money from him and they find you so wanting in that department that they put you on  _selling matches duty_  when most houses in rich (or at least not dirt-poor neighborhoods) have bloody electricity by now (so it’s not as if anyone around here even buys the damned things in this day and age), either you take it for the joke it is or you just throw yourself into the Thames, and he likes to think he’s not quite at that point yet.

Good thing that his mom isn’t around to see this happening, or she’d have died of a broken heart instead of TBC, not that he’s not going to follow in her footsteps if he keeps on going around dressed in old clothes, a coat that wouldn’t keep someone warm at the beginning of fall never mind in December. Sometimes he wishes he had gone with Asha when she left to look for work in the States but she hardly needed a ten year old to look after, didn’t she, and so here he is, knowing that if he goes back without having sold at least half of the matches in the box he’s going to spend Christmas with a few broken ribs if he’s lucky. Never mind that no one is willing to buy matches off him when he has a black eye and a split lip, up until now people have ran after glancing his way and he hasn’t sold a thing.

Figures. Who even buys fucking matches,  _really_. Well, if he stays in this fancy area he’s not going to sell a thing, he supposes, so maybe he should just try and walk back towards his neighborhood, where people still use matches  _and_  candles, except that usually then the opposite issue arises. As in, where he lives  _no one_  has the money to spare for extra matches, especially at the price he’s supposed to sell them.

He sighs and ends up staying where he is – it’s eight PM or so a clock inside the store in front of which he’s staying tells him, and he’s been walking through every street in Islington with shops still open, so there are a few people rushing by still, but in a bit everyone is going to disappear into their warm and comfortable homes and he’s going to be left there hungry, without having made any money and freezing cold, on Christmas Eve. Damn, and he can’t even stay  _here_ or some cop is going to chase him off – well, actually he could let himself get arrested and solve at least the food and heat issue, except that no one is going to bail him and he doesn’t even know if he wants to risk the consequences.

At about nine, the shop closes along with the few others left. The owner glares at Theon before he can even open his mouth as he tries to come over and ask them if they might want some matches – well, at least he did try. Some.

He shrugs and walks away – better that he finds someplace covered he can spend the night in before he really fucking freezes to death, if he can find any. He walks aimlessly around for a bit, it’s not as if he cares where he ends up, until he really needs to stop because of the cold, and – yeah. Right, what a joke, he’s in a fairly nice residential area. There’s even a garden at the center of the small square – not that he can get inside since it’s locked. He glances at his left, sees this family sitting around their table eating and smiling at each other and he finds it in himself to actually walk some more – the last thing he needs is seeing people eat, damn it.

When he’s far enough, he just lets himself drop on the ground – it’s snowing and it’s not covered, but who even cares, it’s not as if he’s anyplace where he wouldn’t get kicked out at once should he sit on a covered surface. Also, it’s cold. And he has a box full of matches.

Well, damn it to hell, it’s not as if it can get any worse – he grabs one match and lights it up, figuring that at least he’ll get warmer. Somewhat.

To be entirely truthful, it barely changes anything – it’s windy, and it’s still snowing, so even if he cups his hands around it at most his palms get slightly warmer but that’s about it. But then –

He raises his eyes and  _no_ , seriously, he can’t be hallucinating food.

Except that he  _is_  seeing a table in front of him, fully set, and presenting a full-on Christmas dinner. And somehow the snow isn’t touching it.

He swallows and stands up, moving closer. He touches the side – well, it  _does_  feel like wood covered in linen, at least. He’s still sure he’s fucking hallucinating, but it can’t hurt to try, whatever it is, and so he reaches out for a bread bun –

Except that the match goes out and the table disappears with it.

“Great,” he mutters to himself, “now I’m also going insane, am I.” Still. It’s fucking cold. He lights up the next match, might as well, and –

What the  _hell_.

Now there’s a proper damned Christmas tree in front of him, with  _presents_  underneath.

Either the universe is trying to play a joke on him or he’s really going insane, or maybe it’s both. Good question, Theon decides as he kneels down and grabs the smaller package from the pile –

And the match falls on the snow. It goes out, of course, and the tree disappears –

But the present doesn’t.

Theon swallows down, trying to ignore the cramps in his stomach, tears away the paper and opens the box. There’s a pair of gloves inside, not particularly good quality but at least it’s wool – he puts them on. They’re a bit small, but they’ll do, he figures.

Well, at least his fingers won’t fall because of frostbite. He lights up the next match.

He doesn’t know what he’s expecting, but absolutely nothing happens. For a moment he’s almost glad for it –  it means he’s not hallucinating any more, at least, and then –

“God, what happened to you?”

He almost screams when  _his dead mother_  suddenly appears in front of him.

“I’m dying,” he answers at once, because what the hell should he even be assuming if he’s  _seeing his mother_  now?

“You might be,” she agrees, which – well. Right. All things considered, at least it’s a realistic hallucination. “I can’t – what did he do, he  _promised_  he would look after you, he  _promised_  –”

 _My father?_ , Theon thinks,  _fat chance he meant that_. He doesn’t say it though, also because what good would it even do, not when she’s looking at him as if she can’t bear to see him like this –

Obviously his hands shake and the match falls on the snow.

She’s gone a moment later, of course, and on one hand he kind of wants to try and light up another match, on the other…

On the other, he’s had enough and he doesn’t know what the hell is going on with the damned things, but he just grabs his box and dumps everything down in the snow – there, done, now they can’t be used anymore. Never mind that now he’s really cold though, and those meager gloves won’t help much more, not when he’s really fighting cramps every damned second. He kneels down in the snow, not caring that his trousers are so damp he can feel the water go straight through his bones and –

First, he hears a dog barking. Then –

“Grey Wind, come on, it’s late, don’t disturb –”

Before whoever was saying it finishes that sentence, the dog in question has collided against Theon’s side and he almost topples over – it’s a  _huge_  dog, damn it, and Theon doesn’t topple over just because someone reels the dog in by the collar.

“I’m sorry, sometimes he just goes and –”

The owner never finishes the sentence, not when he gets a good look at Theon, and – the owner is actually a kid maybe a couple years younger than him at most. He’s wearing nice warm clothes and he can see red curly hair underneath his wool hat, and he has a couple of huge blue eyes that a few of the girls sharing Theon’s room at Bolton’s would envy. And also, he looks completely – Theon doesn’t know  _what_ , but he doesn’t seem too pleased at his predicament.

“Uh, Merry Christmas?” Theon tries to joke. “’M sorry, I know I shouldn’t be here but –”

The kid puts a hand on his shoulder and lets it go as if it burns. “You’re  _freezing_ ,” he interrupts. “I mean, who cares, it’s not as if I’d report anyone being here, but – don’t you have somewhere to go?”

Theon shrugs and thinks about a decent answer that might not sound too pathetic.

“Never mind. That was a stupid question,” the kid says.

“What?”

“You’re freezing out on the street at this time on Christmas Eve with – you aren’t even wearing a coat, ‘course you don’t have a place to go.”

Theon doesn’t think anyone has been so sympathetic to him since his mom died and he doesn’t know if he wants to cry or not. Even if he probably shouldn’t out of preserving some dignity, if he has any left to spare.

“Well – no, I don’t,” he replies, figuring that there’s no point in lying. “But – I’ll be fine. I mean, you should probably go inside, there’ll be people – your family waiting for you, don’t –”

“My neighbors are waiting for me.”

“What?”

“My family is celebrating in Dublin. We’re all from there. But I fell ill just before they left a week ago, so I stayed with the neighbors along with my dog, they didn’t mind keeping an eye on me. So  _my family_  is not exactly waiting. Oh, I’m Robb.”

“Theon,” Theon croaks, wondering if he’s really dying and hallucinating someone talking to him as if he’s actually someone worth talking to.

“You know what,” Robb says after a moment, “just come with.”

“ _What_?”

“I’m sure Davos won’t mind and Stannis won’t mind if Davos doesn’t, and you really look like you’ll freeze to death if you stay there until midnight.”

“I – I can’t just go into someone’s house –”

“Why, I’d bring you, it’s not as if you’d be just barging in.”

“No one just  _takes people in_ like that –”

“Davos is the kind of guy who would,” Robb replies, sounding fairly sure of that. “Also, do you think I can just leave you here and come back next morning to check if you aren’t dead yet? Come on, you’re coming with me.”

“… Seriously?”

“I’m not the kind of person joking about this kind of things on Christmas Eve.” And then he holds out a hand and Theon takes it, never mind that Robb doesn’t seem to mind helping him walk towards the house even if it must be getting his coat dirty considering the state of his clothes, but – Robb is warm, and his dog on the other side is warmer, and for a moment he feels marginally better if only just for that.

Then it turns out that Robb’s neighbors  _really_  are that nice – or better, one looks so stern that Theon almost runs just at the expression on his face, but the other has a fairly kind air to himself and when Robb explains the situation in terms that most probably resemble ‘yes I found him on the side of the road and he’s about to die of hypothermia can he come in’ (Theon is barely hearing it) he doesn’t even ask the other one before saying that of course he can, he doesn’t let kids  _die_  of cold on the corner next to his damn bloody house. The other one just shrugs and says of course, he’s not  _that_ heartless, and that’s how half an hour later he’s wearing some oversized old clothes that they found him somewhere after having a bath and Robb has pretty much dragged him to the kitchen where the three of them are having dinner – apparently Stannis, the stern looking guy, doesn’t see the point of dirtying things in the living room and breaking out the good china when the kitchen is perfectly serviceable and it’s not like he has the royal family coming to dinner. Theon couldn’t really care less about the location, not when at the sight of warm food he can feel each single cramp of hunger in his stomach.

Still, he tries to go as slow as he can when he’s served a plate of stuffing – for some reason he’s being painfully reminded of his mother telling him that one should always have good manners and he can’t quite bring himself to give a bad impression.

Except that of course there are questions, not that he could have expected any less.

“Just for curiosity, may I ask what you were doing outside at this hour?” Well, at least it was Davos asking – Theon doesn’t know if he’d have died of embarrassment had it been Stannis.

“Selling matches,” he sighs. “Well, they fell into the snow before so I guess I can’t try to do that tomorrow, but – yes. Selling matches.”

“I imagine not for yourself,” Davos adds.

“Not really,” Theon agrees, nibbling on a piece of fresh bread. God, how long had it been since he had some that wasn’t hardened?

“Who even thinks selling matches is a profitable business these days?”

Well,  _Stannis_  has a point. Theon shrugs. “Er, my – employer. Guess you could call him like that. Not that I  _wanted_  to work for them, but – I didn’t have a choice.”

“Doesn’t your family object?” Stannis asks. Theon feels the pain in his stomach get worse, but not for hunger.

“My mom’s dead,” he shrugs. “My dad – let’s say it was his idea.”

“ _What_?” Robb finally said something, but he sounds outraged. “You mean he  _agreed_  to send you out selling matches with this weather?”

“He agreed to force me to  _steal_  wallets,” Theon shrugs. “I just – not that I ever tried hard because it’s not  _right_ , but I wasn’t good at it anyway.”

He looks down at his food so that he doesn’t have to look at their faces – he probably wouldn’t like what he’d see anyway.

There’s a few moments of silence and then – he was eating just with his right hand and keeping the left on his thigh, and he almost chokes on his meat when Robb’s fingers carefully grasp his.

“That’s horrible,” he says, and bloody hell but he doesn’t sound – judging? “And no one should do this – I mean, shouldn’t you be in school?”

Theon laughs. “I’ve gone for three years or four. I wish.”

“You know what,” Davos says before the silence can become too heavy, “I say we finish dinner and we discuss it in detail tomorrow. You look like you’re going to faint if you don’t take it easy.”

Theon just nods and thanks him profusely before going back to his food. Which is actually  _good_  if he stops to taste it, and he just lets the others talk, and he doesn’t tell Robb to stop holding his damn hand and Robb  _doesn’t_ stop.

Then it turns out that while Davos and Stannis live in a fairly nice house it’s also  _small_ , and they only have one guest room in which Robb is currently sleeping. Theon doesn’t bring up that they implied that there’s just  _one_  bedroom – he thinks he guessed why those two are sharing a house and it’s not his business, not when they actually agreed to take him in for the moment – and instead says that he’s fine with sleeping on the carpet. Hell, it’d be fairly more comfortable than the floor at Bolton’s.

Robb sends an horrified look at him and tells him not to be stupid, he shares the bed with one of his siblings more often than not, they can just do the same here, it’s fairly large anyway. Stannis just shrugs and says that as long as they all agree he has nothing to suggest. Davos snorts and says they’ll see them at breakfast before they disappear upstairs, and Theon finds himself dragged in a nice, medium-sized guest room with a  _very_  nice, soft bed. He doesn’t moan the moment he shrugs off everything but his shirt and trousers and climbs inside just out of self-control, but damn if he was close to. And the blankets are warm, not that joke of a moth-eaten piece of wool he has back at Bolton’s. Robb’s dog comes curling on the floor at the end of the bed just after Robb comes back from the bathroom and while Theon never liked dogs much, most he ran into usually tried to grab a bite in order to scare him off their masters, he thinks he likes this one.

“Hey,” Robb tells him after climbing in on the other side – he’s wearing proper night attire, of course. “You know, uhm, my father, he’s with the Yard. I imagine he could arrange you something better.”

Theon doubts that, but still, sounds like a prospect at least. “Well, if he wants me to tell him the address of my, er, the guy who thinks selling matches is good business, he just has to ask. But – just, thank you. I mean, you didn’t have to –”

“Sorry, should I have left you to freeze –”

Robb stops midway. Right. He probably realized that it’s exactly what  _everyone else_  has done up until now.

“Well, I’m not that kind of person. Now how about we get some sleep and we figured that out tomorrow? Don’t worry, at worst they’re going to let you stay here until the new year at least.”

“ _What_? But they don’t even know me, come on –”

“But  _I_  know Davos. Just have some rest and don’t worry, how about it?”

He kind of wants to weep when Robb’s hands wrap around his own, but he doesn’t and closes his eyes instead, and he decides that fine, maybe for now he won’t, and as he goes to sleep with his fingers still tangled with Robb’s he thinks he couldn’t have hoped for a better gift if he had tried.

 

End.


End file.
